


The Great Mind Game

by Ghosts_Writer



Series: The line between genius and madness [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternative Meeting, Angst, Domestics, Hurt/Comfort, John's still a psychiatrist, M/M, Slight Alternative Universe, Slight Mystrade if you squint
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-17
Updated: 2014-08-07
Packaged: 2018-02-09 06:31:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1972476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghosts_Writer/pseuds/Ghosts_Writer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and John have started their relationship. Now they have to face an enemy that might be the end of them in many way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The first Boom

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is. The third installment in a series that started out as a bunny for a one shot, what do you know. I hope you'll enjoy it. It's already more fun to write than the second one.
> 
> Comments, kudos, subscriptions, bookmarks, all great!
> 
>  
> 
> NOW BETAED AND BRIT-PICKED! by the fantastic BooksOverPeople

As my grandmother used to say, all good things must come to an end, and naturally, so did what John would later refer to as “their honeymoon-phase”. No, John and Sherlock didn't break up soon after they had started their relationship, however, in the beginning everything was a bit too good to be true.

They had been quite busy, John's blog attracting attention and bringing in new clients to keep Sherlock from getting bored, and with John’s locum work, they didn't have a lot of free time. And what free time they had was mostly used in the bedroom. If John wasn't sure that his sex life before Sherlock had already been above average (at least when he had a girlfriend) he would have wondered if he'd been living with a repressed sexuality. For now that he was having sex with a man he was having more and better sex than ever before.

As you all have come to know John and Sherlock a bit, you can all guess that there was the occasional fight. Nothing huge, easily diffused and settled, just enough to remind them that neither of them was perfect.

The first time their relationship did turn sour was when Sherlock returned from his trip to Minsk. Granted, he had been lured there with false hope of an interesting case, still John hadn't expected to come home from the clinic to the sound of gun shots in his own flat, even less fired by his lover at the wall – which, apparently, had it coming. He also didn't expect his lover to throw a tantrum, collect a severed head within hours of his return and not even greet John with a kiss or hell, even a hello!

The row they had then was meaningless. John would later vaguely remember that there was something about the solar system (again), and his blog, things that in the greater scheme of things seemed unimportant but were enough to make John leave the flat to avoid actually using violence or – in their case worse – say something truly cutting.

Once out on the streets and out of sight of the flat, John slumped against a wall. It was the first time Sherlock had been truly dismissive of John since they had become more than friends and although John should have known these moods from before, there was this nagging question in the doctor's mind, was that it? Had Sherlock grown tired and bored of him?

He fished out his phone, going through his contact list to look for a place to crash tonight. He couldn't possibly go back while Sherlock was in this mood, could he? He skipped through his meager options, finger hovering over a contact for a couple of seconds before dismissing it. Harry, she didn't even know about their new relationship yet and he wasn't going to tell her during their first fight. Mike, out of town with the wife. Bill, also, not yet informed of John's newfound homosexual interest. Mycroft, well that one almost made John laugh. Lestrade...John pursed his lips. The DI had taken John out for a pint a couple of times before John and Sherlock had become John-and-Sherlock when John 'needed some air'. Also he couldn't imagine that the copper would have a problem with the new development, although John didn't know if he could talk about it with him. And there was also that connection to Sherlock's brother that John wasn't quite sure of. He sighed and glared at his last option. Sarah.

 

~°~

“I can't even say I'm surprised.” Sarah said right after opening the door. John had been vague on the phone, just saying he needed to get out for the night.

“Pardon?”

“You and Sherlock. Seriously, John, you were really nice to me after the incident, but I'm a psychiatrist, don't you think I can tell the difference between someone in a relationship just being nice to me and someone who's trying to get into my pants? And you, quite frankly, changed from type B to type A within two days.” Sarah sat on the couch, a tray with tea waiting on the table.

John sighed while sitting next to her. “I honestly didn't know how to tell you...I mean, I take you out on a date, you nearly get killed, and I get off with my male flatmate.”

He was puzzled when she actually laughed. “Oh, John, it was already obvious what was happening at the circus.” She smiled softly. “Honestly, I thought he was your boyfriend before but you were insistent he wasn’t. At the circus, though, the looks you gave one another…” she shook her head, “It was clear as day what was going to happen sooner or later.”

“So, you're not mad at me?” he asked carefully.

“We can't choose who we're falling in love with, can we? You're both idiots, that's why it took you so long. Can't really blame you for that, I've behaved like an idiot so many times...so, what did Mr. Sensitive do this time to drive you out of the flat?” she questioned.

John exhaled slowly. “It's stupid, I guess...he went to Minsk for a case, apparently a disappointing one, and when I came home from the clinic he was there, unannounced and in one of his moods. He was actually shooting at the wall! Can you imagine?”

Sarah nodded, “Go on.”

“I come home to the sound of gunfire, find him with my gun, taking it out on the wall, shouting 'bored'. I go to the fridge and there's a bloody severed head. And then he goes insulting my blog, and that's where our clients come from, just so you know...” John shut up when he noticed his ranting.

Sarah nodded again, and John noticed that she reminded him awfully of Ella. Great, she was in therapist mode. “There's something you didn't mention, I don't think you just forgot about it. I think the missing thing is what you're really angry about.” she pointed out.

John sighed again. Damned psychiatrists. “He didn't say hello, he didn't kiss me, acknowledge me or in any way mention that he'd missed me,” he admitted.

“There you go.” Sarah smiled slightly. “John, I can't say I know Sherlock very well, but from what I've seen and what you've told me, he's not exactly in sync with his emotions, is he?” John shook his head and she continued. “Now, if you want him to show more emotion, you might have to tell him.”

“Thanks, Dr. Sawyer.” John said bitterly, only to receive a punch on the upper arm. “Ouch!”

“This has nothing to do with me being a therapist, John, although, I may mention, I am the couple's counselor at our clinic. Anyway, it's the most common problem in any relationship, John. Communication. You want something from him, so you have to tell him. Chances are he doesn't even know why you're angry with him.” Sarah pointed out.

“Shouldn't he at least try and find out? He hasn't tried to call me or texted me and I've been gone for two hours now.” John glared at his phone, which he had pulled out, willing it to ring.

“John, you're freaking out.” Sarah said calmly. “Have you ever had a relationship with a man before?”

John swallowed tightly. “Does that matter?”

“I think it does.”

“No.” he admitted. “I've never been with a man...Haven't even felt attracted to one before. Why does that matter?”

“This is all new to you, John. You have to understand that this is just another relationship, just like the ones you had before. Sherlock's gender plays a minor role and you have to accept that. Now, try seeing it from his point of view. I imagine you've been in a similar situation before. One of your girlfriends was angry at you and stormed off. What would you do?”

John considered this for a moment and then grumpily accepted that she was right. “I'd let her fume and call me when she'd calmed down so I wouldn't make it worse.”

“Exactly. So, don't stress over the fact that he hasn't called.” she glanced at the clock. “It's quite late, and I've got an early morning. Do you want to take the lilo?”

“The sofa will be just fine.” John mumbled.

She brought him pillows and a blanket and wished him good night.

“Thanks, Sarah. This is more than I could expect.”

“It is. I was just too good for you.” She grinned at him. “Good night, John. Try not to overthink it.”

“Right.” John agreed and settled down for the night.

 

~°~

The next morning flew by in a rush. Once John saw the news of the explosion at Baker Street the fight was forgotten – if momentarily – and he all but ran home to find Sherlock unharmed but also apparently oblivious to what had occurred between the two of them. Before John could even attempt to address it though, Lestrade called Sherlock.

During the cab ride to Scotland Yard, John opened his mouth only to be cut off by his lover.

“Not now, John.”

“Not now what?” John asked, feeling the same kind of rage as the night before.

“Obviously you want to start a conversation about why you left the flat last night, staying at your colleague's place, the same colleague you took out on a date just before we started our relationship. Evidently I would be asking you if you had done that in the knowledge that I would, of course, deduce your whereabouts, which would be suggestive to you trying to make me jealous, which you did.” Sherlock leveled a glare at John at this. “My brother's presence was the only reason I wasn't tearing the flat apart, or even more than it already was at that point.”

“Seriously?” John asked incredulously.

“When you breached the subject of a relationship I asked you whether you would leave because of me saying something insensitive. You said no. Last night you left for reasons I did not understand but no matter the reasons I did understand the emotion. You were angry at me. According to Mrs. Hudson the best thing to do was to let you calm down, which might have been the best solution for you, it, however, left me to pace in a devastated flat, wondering whether you would return at all. You don't have many possessions, let alone much that you couldn't leave behind. And when you did come back,” Sherlock again pinned John with his gaze, “you smelled of that awful perfume. At least you had a crick in your neck so I knew you hadn't slept on a bed.”

“Um...Sherlock...” John tried to start again, but didn't get further than the first time.

“I told you not now, John, because you are angry at me for something I don't know, and I'm angry at you for making me jealous, whether intentionally or not, and we will have to discuss this, however, I am not good at discussions concerning emotions and we're already almost at Scotland Yard so I would like to have this conversation in private with enough time on our hands to truly dissolve the issue and possibly – hopefully – avoid recurrences in the future.” Sherlock took a deep breath. “Would that be alright?”

John looked out of the window for a second. “I think that's the most grown-up thing to do.”

“Good.” Sherlock nodded, just as the cab stopped. He paid the fare, exited the vehicle but stopped John before he could enter NSY. “John...this is...this won't be...”

Fortunately for the detective, John already knew what he was trying to say. “Sherlock, you just said it yourself. I'm angry, you're angry, and we'll talk about it later. It's fine. It's all fine. This won't be the end of it.”

For a second John thought Sherlock was going to kiss him, right there on the street, but then the moment passed and Sherlock turned to the door. The strangest thing was, John wouldn't have minded.


	2. Pushing It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting at Bart's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betaed and Brit-Picked by the fabulous BooksOverPeople. 
> 
> I have two more chapters for this betaed and ready and the story is completely written but seeing as my beta is at the moment cut off the internet it'll take some time into August for us to get those last chapters up and running. I'll post the ready chapters with a bit of gap to make the wait seem less long. 
> 
> Also, I'm already working on Scandal. So, hopefully, we'll get this through this without major waits in the near future.

At the time, John had no idea what was ahead of them and therefore, it had been easy for him to agree to Sherlock's conditions for their talk. Had he known, he probably would have insisted on having the conversation as it wouldn't just be any case, but one that was a test to their new and fragile relationship – but I'm getting ahead of myself.

 

The morning after the explosion Sherlock, had been summoned to NSY. Lestrade told them that the apparent gas leak wasn't one and the only lead was a strong box with an envelope addressed to Sherlock. Inside, was a phone made to look like the pink phone from A Study in Pink.

 

That was the first time that John had a bad feeling about this. Some bomber had taken a special interest in Sherlock, enough to leave a message specifically for him, enough to read John's blog for useful details, enough to break into their very house to leave a fucking clue.

 

John would never admit this to Sherlock, but he felt jealous. If you wanted Sherlock Holmes’ attention, give him a puzzle. And the bomber had done just that. John hated whoever it was for the rapt interest for them they had sparked in Sherlock. Or maybe John hated himself for being too ordinary to evoke the same attention from Sherlock.

 

The insecurities from the previous night returned to John full blast as he followed Sherlock around. First, to the basement flat in their house. Then to St. Barts so the detective could run tests on the shoes. He paced, trying to keep his thoughts on the case instead of his relationship while Sherlock ignored the insistent text alert of his phone and running god-knows-what on the lab computer. However, it truly crossed a line when Sherlock told John to get his phone out of his bloody jacket pocket.

 

John did, mind you, get the phone out of Sherlock's pocket and he did actually tell him that his brother had texted about the missile plans eight times. “The real question is, why is my brother so determined to bore me when someone else is being so delightfully interesting?” Sherlock had said.

 

John snorted, and even that went unnoticed by the man staring into the microscope. “Do try to remember that a woman might die.” John said acidly and finally, finally Sherlock turned to him.

 

“Why? This hospital is full of people dying, _doctor._ Go cry at their bedside, see what good it does them.”

 

“Pushing it, Sherlock.” John warned just as the computer announced a result. To the detective's credit, he did hold John's gaze for five more seconds before turning to the computer, just as Molly Hooper returned to the lab.

 

“Any luck?” She asked, the door barely closing behind her before a man followed her through.

 

John couldn't really recall all of the conversation later on. He did remember that Molly had forgotten his name – what a surprise that she forgets about old, ordinary John Watson in the presence of the almighty fucking beautiful Sherlock Holmes – and her new boyfriend couldn't keep his fucking eyes off the detective and even pushed himself between John and his lover. See, John couldn't recall the words of the conversation because he only notice exactly the beforementioned. There was a young, pretty woman pining after his lover and another young, pretty oh-so-obviously gay man **also** pining after his lover.

 

John used to say that jealousy was an ugly beast and not worth his time. However, at that moment, John started to reconsider and had to worry his bottom lip while fighting the impulse to grab Sherlock, slam him up against the wall and show these pretty, young things who the detective belonged to. Obviously, with patience much greater than any of them deserved, John didn't.

 

He did snap out of his reverie when the pretty man accidently (or maybe not so much) pushed a metal dish off the table in his desperate attempt to get Sherlock's attention.

 

“Sorry,..” he mumbled, quickly putting the dish back on the table, while John turned away, partly embarrassed for the kid, partly internally laughing his arse off.

 

John got a grip on himself and his laughing fit in time to see Molly's boyfriend leave.

 

“Gay?” Molly asked, making John frown. Only distantly, he remembered Sherlock glancing at the man, muttering 'gay' before retracting and changing it into 'hey'. “What do you mean gay? We're together!”

 

_Here we go,_ John thought, already expecting Sherlock to launch into deductions.

 

“And domestic bliss must suit you, Molly, you've put on three pounds since I last saw you.”

 

_There it is,_ John sighed. _First, call her boyfriend gay and then basically call her fat. Real smooth, Sherlock._

 

“Two and a half.” Molly defended.

 

“Nuh, three.” Sherlock retorted.

 

“He's not gay!”

 

And then Sherlock did fall into his deductions. “With that level of personal grooming?”

 

“Because he puts a bit of product in his hair?” John asked, finally unable to hold back. “I put product in my hair!” It was only after he had blurted it out that it occurred to him that he wasn't the best example of a heterosexual male anymore.

 

The look Sherlock gave him said 'So?' but instead the man said “You wash your hair, there's a difference.”

 

John couldn't help but feel grateful that Sherlock had actually chosen those words than the one that was so clearly written in his eyes. They hadn't yet talked about how to go about things in public, and John wasn't quite keen to be outed in front of a woman that had a crush on his lover and didn't even remember John's name. It was during that reverie that John missed Sherlock's other deductions that gave Molly's boyfriend the label gay and then she was storming out of the lab, leaving Sherlock looking utterly confused.

 

“Charming, well done.” John voiced.

 

“Saving her time. Isn't that kinder?” Sherlock asked.

 

“Kinder? That wasn't _kind,_ Sherlock,” John pointed out. He shouldn't feel as sorry for Molly as he did, he barely knew her and in a way, it probably was kinder to be told in the long run – although not the way Sherlock broke it to her – but John knew that his sympathies had very little to do with Molly's hurt feelings but rather, his own.

 

This case really was a series of firsts for things that would repeat many times until the untimely end of their relationship. Right then, John wondered for the first time whether Sherlock, all-seeing, all-knowing Sherlock, really was that blind when it came to emotions and social interaction. Not only had he just insulted a friend of his, he then brushed the incident off when told and instead challenged John to deduce the bloody trainers. John would chastise himself many times for actually doing it, seeing that Sherlock so obviously tried to change the subject.

 

If it was good for nothing else, it did give the detective the needed train of thought to come to the conclusion that these were the trainers of Carl Powers. Everything after that was just a matter of Sherlock’s scientific skills to find the poison on the inside of the shoes.

 

A day nobody died, although it looked that way for quite some time, should be a good day in John Watson’s book, and it probably would have been. It definitely would have been, with all of Sherlock’s brilliance on display, if the two men didn’t get into a fight any time they exchanged more than two words. Although, John had the feeling that for most of those fights, he was the only one actually aware. With the big fight still in the back of his mind, John couldn’t help but get pissed about little things like Sherlock being insensitive to a friend or looking down at him for caring about national security. Right, how quaint. They really needed to talk and after John had received the call from Lestrade that they had found the woman and she was safe and sound, John decided that there was no better time than the present.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock have their overdue talk. However, maybe the problems run deeper than they thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betaed and Brit-Picked by the amazing BooksOverPeople.

John took a deep breath as he entered the living room, where Sherlock was sat on his chair, fingers steepled under his nose. He put a hot cup of tea next to his lover and sat in his own chair.

 

“They’ve got her,” John informed Sherlock, but the detective didn’t seem very interested.

 

“Of course they did. They had more than the necessary information,” Sherlock replied curtly. His fingers twitched slightly but then he was completely silent again.

 

“Sherlock…”

 

“The next message will arrive soon, John. We will have to stay alert at all times. This is not over yet,” Sherlock interrupted but for once John wasn’t having it.

 

“Ok, look, I agreed that it was best to wait until the case is over and I do believe that there’s more to come but for the time being we can do nothing but wait, am I right?” John asked.

 

The sleuth raised his head but didn’t look at John as he nodded quite unwillingly.

 

“Good...Sherlock, I get it, you don’t want to fight and I don’t want to fight either but we have to talk about it. No matter how long we wait, it won’t disappear. In fact, if we wait any longer it just gets worse. Don’t you see what this one fight did to us already?” John looked at Sherlock waiting for a response. The only reaction was a small frown.

 

“What did it do to us?”

 

John sighed. “I get angry at basically everything you say, Sherlock. It’s the rage I have about the other thing, I project it on everything. You might be able to shut that part of you off but I can’t. So...here goes. You were gone to Minsk and when you returned...you didn’t tell me you’d get home early. I get home and there you are, shooting the wall, having already stored a bloody head in the refrigerator and you don’t even say hello. That’s not exactly how I fancy you getting home from a trip, you know.”

 

Sherlock’s frown increased. “So, you were expecting me to inform you of my early return. What difference would it have made?”

 

“That’s not-” John ran a hand through his hair. _When had it gotten this long anyway?_ , he thought absentmindedly. “That’s just one of the things people do when in a relationship. They inform each other about this stuff. It’s a minor point though.” He took another deep breath. “I thought that when you returned from Minsk, you’d tell me that you’d missed me, or even if you didn’t, you’d at least say hello and kiss me. That’s not too much to ask, is it? Instead, I get a shooting and a severed head!”

 

Sherlock swallowed hard. “I got the head because you weren’t home,”, his voice was down to a whisper. “I’d been bored out of my mind with that sham of a case and then the long flight … I was looking forward to coming home to you, but you were at work. The last time I bothered you while you were working, you told me to only text in emergencies, so I decided to entertain myself. The head experiment only did so for a short time, as the saliva coagulation took hours…”

 

“So the wall took a pounding,” John found himself once more awed by Sherlock. “You were so bored because you missed me … and you didn’t contact me because you thought you were being considerate. Great, just great,” John sighed, annoyed.

 

“What? What are you angry about now?” Sherlock asked, his eyes narrowed.

 

“About myself!” John pointed out. “There I was, thinking you were being an arse when in reality, you were missing me. But I just walked in and overreacted, never stopping to take into consideration that my lover was Sherlock Holmes and reacted to emotions differently than other people.” John shook his head bitterly. “And then I go off to crash at Sarah’s because she’s the only one I could go to and of course, I knew you’d deduce where I’d been and I even thought you kind of deserved it. So, basically, I’m the arse.”

 

Sherlock’s eyebrows rose high, indignant on John’s behalf “John, you’re not an arse… I told you I’m not good at emotions. Part of the reason for that is that I don’t understand many of them because I’ve never experienced them myself. Another part, for this situation the more important part, is that I get caught up in my own and while trying to ignore them, I ignore everything around me as well. I hated how much I’d missed you so I told myself that I was bored instead.” He gestured towards the wall, “Which resulted in this.”

 

John stared at Sherlock for a long moment before he huffed a laugh. “Communication. Right. We’ll definitely have to work on that.”

 

Sherlock nodded slowly and then got up from his chair, John following the action only a second later. “I’m sorry I made you angry,” Sherlock said, as they met in the middle between their chairs.

 

“I’m sorry I tried to make you jealous,” John replied.

 

“You didn’t try, John, you did,” Sherlock pointed out.

 

“Okay, okay,” John raised his hands in surrender, grinning slightly. “I’m sorry I did make you jealous.”

 

Sherlock took another cautious step towards John. “So, can we leave this behind us then?”

 

The doctor nodded. “Issue settled.” Sherlock smiled and then gave John one of Those Kisses.

 

~°~

 

The calm didn’t last very long. Not that John was expecting it to. The bomber did give them a full night of sleep and the pair were just being informed about the woman strapped in semtex from the latest solved puzzle by Lestrade when Donovan called Sherlock to the phone. John didn’t need to be an all-observant detective to see who Sherlock was talking to. As Sherlock would say, the game was on.

 

And Sherlock was so excited, John kept having to bite back comments, trying not to let his agitation (or was it jealousy?) get in the way of the work. This time Sherlock had 8 hours to solve the mystery of the abandoned car and the missing man who rented it.

 

It was hardly a surprise that Sherlock solved it within the given time. It’s easy to say it wasn’t a very complicated case after Sherlock laid it all out, but then, compared to some of his cases this one really was a no brainer for him. Janus Cars gave Monkford a way out, prepped the car for the police to find and come to their conclusions. All it took Sherlock was a couple of deductions about the owner of Janus Cars, Monkford’s wife and a bit of experimentation on the blood sample. So, basically a 4 on his scale.

 

The morning after Sherlock actually treated John to breakfast - would you believe that? And for some reason John had the stupid thought it might be the right time to address something that had been bothering all the time. Communication, right?

 

“Has it occurred to you-”

 

“Probably.” Sherlock cut in.

 

“No,” John shook his head slightly, “has it occurred to you that the bomber’s playing a game with you? The envelope; breaking into the other flat; the dead kid’s shoes – it’s all meant for you.”

 

The smile that appeared on Sherlock’s face had John clench his hand so hard around the fork that it might have been bent afterwards.

 

“I know,” Sherlock answered.

 

“So, is it him, then? Moriarty?” John asked, hiding his anger (jealousy, maybe?) behind a forkful of eggs.

 

“Perhaps,” the detective replied, the pink phone disrupting their conversation.

 

After the customary three pips there was a photo of someone Sherlock didn’t recognize. John on the other hand, did.

 

“Lucky for you, locum work’s been really slow and Mrs. Hudson and I watch way too much telly.”

 

Connie Prince’s death wasn’t even handled as murder until Sherlock and John showed up at the morgue. Death by tetanus intoxication is not as uncommon as people think, so John wasn’t surprised the coroner had decided on accidental death. Sherlock, however, pointed out what should be obvious to any doctor - and John was not happy that he hadn’t realized it right away. The cut on her hand was done post mortem and even if it had occurred at the time the house boy had given in his statement, the bacteria would not have been in the blood long enough.

 

John felt happy when Sherlock gave him something to do, finally he was able to help out. This time, according to Sherlock, the one strapped in the bomb sounded like an old woman, apparently blind. John really had no desire to let these horrible hours be the last for a poor, sick, old lady.

 

Kenny Prince, however, made John wish he’d stuck with Sherlock. That man was blatantly flirting with him! Obviously, John never mentioned this to anyone, considering his radar on gay flirting was never as good as straight flirting and ever since he started dating Sherlock he seemed to be a tad paranoid that everyone was able to identify him as gay - which was as ridiculous as it gets, really.

 

The stink of disinfectant on the cat’s paws, though, really lifted John’s mood. So much so that he was chuckling delightedly when he exited the house after calling Sherlock there.

 

“You think it was the cat. It wasn’t the cat.”

 

And there went his good mood. “What? No, yes. Yeah, it is. It must be. It’s how they got the tetanus into her system. Its paws stink of disinfectant.”

 

“Lovely idea.” Sherlock smiled at him in that indulgent way of his. It was almost as bad as saying, ‘Oh you of little intelligence.’

 

“No, he coated it onto the paws of her cat. It’s a new pet – bound to be a bit jumpy around her. A scratch is almost inevitable. She wouldn’t have …” John argued, but Sherlock interrupted him.

 

“I thought of it the minute I saw the scratches on her arm, but it’s too random and too clever for the brother.”

 

So once again, Sherlock had all the answers and didn’t share them. Instead he waited for John to come to the wrong conclusion and then humiliate him by telling him about Raoul’s internet history. John sighed exaggerated. He really needed to have a talk with Sherlock about that.


End file.
